100 Prompts to the Tune of Clint Barton
by Azurala
Summary: 100 100-word drabbles from a list a friend found for me. Ratings range from K to M as of prompt 15. ClintxBuck, ClintxBobbi, ClintxSteve, ClintxPhil, Circusboy!Clint, Depressed!Clint... All the good stuff. New drabble every day until 100! Prompt #1- Beauty
1. Beauty

Glaring at the mirror like it offended him, Clint impatiently rubbed the foundation into his skin. "Damnit, Clint Barton!" he growled at his reflection. "You need to eat better, you fucking slob..."

Finally satisfied with the coverage, he powdered it over and set to work at highlighting his eyes. He was so absorbed in his navy eyeliner that he didn't notice the door to his room whooshing open and closed. "Clint?"

Luckily for Clint, he'd been doing his makeup for long enough that he managed not to smear it when he jumped. "Steve?"

"You don't need makeup, sweetheart. You're beautiful."


	2. Love

Laying back against Buck's chest, Clint sighed. "I-I still don't know about this, Buck..."

"About what?"

"Us..." the younger archer muttered, trying to find somewhere to put his shaking hands. "I m-mean, why do you want to date me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Fidgeting, Clint blinked back his nervous tears. "You c-could probably have any of the other performers, like... Marcella! You d-don't need me..."

"Damnit, Clint..." Buck laced his thick fingers into Clint's and hugged him tightly. "I want to date you because I fell in love. Does that make sense to you? Do you need any more than that?"


	3. Dream

Clint felt panic well up in his chest as the flames engulfed the colorful tent around him, the heat nearly burning his skin. "Buck!?" he screamed hopelessly, the smoke scratching his throat.

When no reply came, he sank down to the ground, clutching his bow to his chest. "Buck... Help..." he coughed, tears stinging his eyes, adding to the blur in his vision. "I-I'm scared..."

The ground shook underneath him, and Clint watched as some of the beams that held the tent up collapsed.

"Clint!"

Clint's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright.

"Relax, baby... It was just a dream."


	4. Haunted

_Clint threw his hands up in front of his face in vain, whimpering as the fist meant for his face hit his bruised wrist instead. _

_ "Don't you dare hide from me, you worthless piece of shit!" his father yelled, wrenching the ten year old's arms down. "You deserve every bit of this!"_

Dabbing the foundation gently over the fresh bruise on his cheek, Clint fought back tears. Outside the trainees' trailer, he could hear Swordsman talking nonchalantly to his new mentor, Trick Shot.

"Don't worry, Buck, I got him whipped into shape for you."

Would his father always haunt him?


	5. Memory

Kneeling, Clint pressed his forehead to the cold stone. "I'm sorry, Buck... I'm sorry I wasn't there more... What kind of lover am I?" he choked on the lump in his throat.

_Taking Clint's hand in both of his, Buck kissed the back of it before slipping the gold ring onto his finger. "I promise that I will always be here for you, Clint Barton." the genuine diamond shone brightly in the stage light shining on the them._

The memory made Clint shake, and he clutched the tombstone for dear life, his ring still on his finger. "I love you..."


	6. Fragile

Clint bit his lip to keep from sobbing as he felt the burn of his tight virgin ring of muscle being stretched for the first time. "Buck," he whined, "It hurts...!"

The older archer smiled down at him. "I know, baby. Just relax or it will only hurt more." he worked a third lubed finger into his lover's hole. He could feel just how gentle he would have to be to keep from hurting the teen too much.

Despite his efforts, Clint still cried into Buck's shoulder when his very full cock was finally hilted inside of him. "Oh, sweetheart..."


	7. Celebration

Hawkeye couldn't take two steps without one of the other performers clapping a meaty hand on his back or complimenting him heartily. Tonight had been his first live run with the carnival, and he'd been amazing, according to the others.

He didn't think so. He wasn't nearly as good as Trick Shot, in his opinion.

"Hey, kid!" a gruff, familiar voice called out, followed by a hand squeezing his shoulder. "You were perfect tonight. You're gonna be great, Clint."

The teen felt his heart leap out of his chest- Trick Shot really thought that he did well! "T-thanks..." he stuttered.


	8. Secret

Clint sat on the edge of his small bed, eagerly leafing through a sports magazine, a pair of scissors at the ready. When he found a picture of his favorite soccer star, he cut it out and trimmed it to minute perfection before taping it to his bedroom wall next to the others.

Most boys at the young age of twelve cut out pictures of their favorite athletes because they wanted to be just like them, but not Clint. No, when he was done, he sat back and appreciated his handiwork. Literally.

"Ferenc Puskas is so cute..." he whispered happily.


	9. Promise

"Do you, Buck Chisholm, take Clint to be your husband- to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

"I do."

"And do you, Clint Barton, take Buck to be your husband- to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

Clint hadn't realized that he wasn't breathing. "I do."


	10. Innocence

Clint laughed softly under his breath at Steve's bewildered look. "Come on, Cap! It's common knowledge around the Tower that I can be quite the screamer!"

The brave soldier blushed at the thought. The one thing he couldn't stand was when Tony and Clint bantered back and forth about their sex at the breakfast table.

And, deep inside, beyond the teasing he gave Steve for his innocence, Clint wished he still had his. Not his virginity, per se, because he'd lost that happily, but he'd give almost anything never to have had to think of sex as anything but love.


	11. Moonlight

Clint looked up longingly at the moon as he waited. He couldn't believe he'd managed to ruin that for himself, too.

The moon used to mean everything to him- it used to mean that he was with Trick Shot, held tight in his arms in their bed or out on the hillside under said moon. Now it only meant dirty money and tight clothing. Men he didn't love, sex he didn't feel.

He hated it. He hated the night for always finding him on that same street corner, using the moonlight to show off to prospective customers. He'd ruined it.


	12. Whisper

Hawkeye thought he'd heard it. Even though he couldn't hear Mockingbird, he heard something.

_Clint..._

There it was again!

He tried to ignore it, tried to listen to Barbara, but he couldn't hear her. "Honey, I can't hear you!" he called out to her, confused.

_Clint, what happened!?_

He realized then, that she must've been whispering. Why was she whispering? Were they in danger? "Is he gone?" he asked in a whisper.

But it didn't sound right. She frowned and squinted at him.

Her expression grew horrified, and she pointed to her ears. Clint reached up to feel his.

Blood.


	13. Echo

Clint sat grudgingly still as Tony carefully wormed the device into his ear. Once it was settled in, Tony handed him a small remote and pointed to a button labelled "on".

Biting his cheek hopefully, he pressed the button and an annoying little startup tune played. Silence crushed his hope for a moment before the world fell dizzyingly into place around him.

"How's it sound?" the billionaire asked cockily.

After Clint got over his nausea from suddenly hearing everything again, he sneered up at Tony. "They're echoing, you ass."

Tony rolled his eyes and pressed a few buttons. "Now?"

"Perfect..."


	14. Jealousy

Huffing, Barbara crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm gone for a few years, and I come back to this?"

Natasha looked between Barbara and Clint, who was holding hands with Tony at the moment. "I thought you were dead, Barb! For three years, everyone thought you were dead!" Tony tightened his grip on Clint's hand as his voice escalated. "That's a long time to go without giving up hope!"

"I know!" she shot back before giving up and throwing her diamond ring at Clint's chest. Natasha went after her when she ran, but Clint just leaned heavily against Tony.


	15. Passion

Clint wondered if this was how Trick Shot had felt taking his virginity as he carefully pressed himself forward into Barbara. She tensed beneath him when the head of his penis met resistance from the thin membrane protecting her innocence, and he leans down to kiss her as he breaks it. "It's alright..."

He wants this to be as good for her as it was for him years ago, and he makes sure of it with slow, passionate love-making. If her breathless scream and the feeling of her vagina tightening in climax is anything to go by, he'd done perfectly.


	16. Lies

Clint froze when the words left Natasha's mouth, his eyes going wide and his mind reeling.

"Clint? Hey, are you ok?" she asked softly, reaching up to cup his face in her hands.

"It can't be true, Tasha... H-he can't be dead..." he fell back into the wall, tears spilling from his eyes. "Phil is smarter than that...! He wouldn't let Loki get the better of him..."

Natasha carefully pulled him into a hug, "Clint, they wouldn't lie to us about this..."

"Phil..." he muttered brokenly, letting her hold him. "I know he's alive... I love him, Tasha..."

"I know."


	17. Regrets

Trying his damnedest not to cry because, fuck it, crying was for pussies, Clint huddled into his handler's arms. "I-I thought you were dead, Phil... We all did, and it w-was my fault!" he let out a string of profanities as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. "I was distracting everybody, being Loki's mindless drone... It's my fault you're hurt..." he trailed off.

Phil let his own tears flow, cuddling Clint closer to him as he shook with sobs. "Clint, none of this is your fault. No one can blame you for Loki's attack." he soothed, kissing his forehead.


	18. Trust

Clint's hands shook as he drew the bow and unstrung it before he'd worked up the nerve to release it. "I-I can't, Buck..." he muttered, looking away tearfully.

The older archer stood stock still on the platform, a red apple resting on his outstretched hand. "Clint, it's alright. I trust your aim." he watched as Clint restrung his bow. "Just relax and exhale before you shoot."

Frightened, but reassured, Clint took a deep breath and let go. He squeezed his eyes shut a split second later, listening for Buck to cuss and yell at Clint in pain.

"Good job, babe."


	19. Revenge

Clint growled as he plucked his arrows out of the Swordsman's still chest. "It's your fault, you ass. Trick Shot's gone, Barney's dead, and I'm a fucking criminal!" he ripped the last one out of the man's still warm heart, watching as blood gushed slowly out of the hole.

"I will destroy everything you've ever stood for, Jacques." he growled, standing from the soaked carpet and limping over to a dresser against the wall. He picked up a picture frame, a sweet wedding picture resting behind the glass. "Starting with your precious wife. Bullseye will never be beaten down again."


	20. Beach

Clint took a deep breath, trying to relax as the surf washed up onto the sand and his bare feet. The strong arms wrapped around his waist held him close to their owner's chest, warm breath tickling the back of his neck. "I love you, Steve..." he purred, leaning into his new fiance's embrace.

"Don't you ever try that again, Clint Barton..." Steve reprimanded him seriously. "And, I love you, too." he whispered, tipping Clint's chin up to kiss him, despite the awkward angle. The ring on Clint's finger felt cool on Steve's skin, and he smiled into their kiss.


	21. Midnight

Clint huddled into Buck's arms, his eyes glued to the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Why are you making us wait again?" he asked impatiently.

"Because, sweetheart," Buck stroked the younger archer's messy hair, "New York's oppressive laws prohibit you from consenting to sex with me knowingly until you're seventeen."

Still unhappy, but satiated, Clint resumed his vigilance over the clock until it finally ticked to midnight. "Fine, I'm seventeen, now-" he gasped as the hand resting nonchalantly on his thigh moved north to his waiting erection.

"Happy birthday, baby. Now, just relax and let me give you your present..."


	22. Confessions

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." Clint muttered whilst still closing the confessional door.

"And what are your sins, my son?" the middle-aged priest responded in a drawling tone.

"I am about to do something horrible, but I can't stop it..."

"Hmm? What would that be?"

"Murder."

Clint could tell that the man was getting ready to spout something moral and religious, and he didn't want to hear it. The clean sound of a blade slipping between cold metal bars was quick, and the priest warbled a bit before slumping dead against the other wall.

"That's what you get."


End file.
